Elizabeth nodded her affirmation and laughed affectionately at her sister’s distress. “You may not wish for the compliment, but I am afraid your complaint is not one likely to be met with much sympathy. Your disinclination for the attention, which—without wishing to speak an unkindness of the ladies of France—is apparently not so common in this country, and novelty will always arouse interest. Your blushes will only engage this particular officer’s affections more securely, so you must gracefully, if not gratefully, accept that a pretty, modest Englishwoman will receive more attention than she may like, especially when she is so charming as not to seek it. Your being a little reserved is a general attraction—few men, I believe, wish for competition in speech, much preferring to listen to themselves.” And so saying, she bade Georgiana good-night.

The practicalities of travel in Europe and seasonal difficulties in the hiring of post-horses dominated the conversation at dinner that first evening, with expert and novice travellers alike across the tables exchanging tales of perilous journeys, either undertaken themselves, or confidently retold. Mr. Darcy, therefore, determined that they must leave early the next morning in the hope of an easier journey. The family were travelling in the chaise-and-four, with servants and luggage in a second carriage of four post-horses and two out-riders, requiring at least four fresh horses at each post on the Paris road; it was, in consequence, desirable to get an early start for the day’s travel. Early mornings, Elizabeth reflected to her husband as they dressed for breakfast, were but a small price to pay for the greater comforts of speed and safety.